


Fencing

by imaginary_golux



Category: Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-29
Updated: 2011-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orsino is disturbed; Viola is desperate.  Written for Porn Battle X.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fencing

Orsino decided, when Cesario reported on the abortive duel, that his young companion, clearly gently raised - perhaps as a cleric of some sort? - needed to learn how to fight. Young men were hotheaded and foolish; this would surely not be the last duel young Cesario would be faced with. Against Cesario's protestations, he herded the younger man towards the fencing salon.

Cesario was utterly hopeless at fencing. He looked at the sword as if it was going to bite him. He jumped whenever Orsino lunged or even made a parry. And, for some reason, when Orsino stripped down to his undershirt so as not to get his jacket dirty, Cesario turned a brilliant shade of red and looked away. Finally, Orsino gave up for the moment, ordering the poor lad to report to him the next afternoon. Cesario fled as if demons were chasing him.

That evening, Orsino found himself wondering what Cesario - delicate, cheerful, utterly unwarlike Cesario - would be like as a woman. He had lovely pale skin, and those pink lips that always looked a little debauched, and his voice was a little high anyhow - he'd be a rather pretty woman, really. Almost beautiful. Orsino was rather disturbed to find that the idea of a female Cesario, smiling at him, was deeply arousing. Was he ill, to think his page would be a proper bedmate? But the fact remained that Cesario was a truly beautiful lad, and something about his trembling shyness made Orsino almost want to bend him back over a chair and kiss those tempting lips until the boy surrendered...

Orsino tore his thoughts away from his liegeman, concentrated on Olivia, and tried to get to sleep.

Viola, halfway across the house, was in similar straits. She had nearly lost it when the Duke took his shirt off, nearly flung herself at his feet begging him to see her as she really was, and then do the sorts of things gently-reared girls weren't supposed to know about to her. The idea of him kissing her...bliss. And sometimes he would lay a hand on her shoulder or her arm, to give her directions or thank her for some small service, and she would shiver with joy at his nearness. If only he were not in love with Olivia! She would fling herself upon his mercy, beg his forgiveness for her deception, and then, if she was very lucky (and, she reminded herself, if the Duke were not in love with Olivia) find herself in his bed. She wasn't _quite_ sure what went on in a bed - not entirely - but she was very sure she wanted to kiss Orsino, and when she thought about him, she got a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach and her secret places grew wet.

And tomorrow she would have to fence with him again. Viola sighed, and buried her face in her pillow, and tried to sleep.

Some nights later, on their wedding night, Viola remembered her vague imaginings of what it would be like to be in Orsino's bed, and laughed. Orsino, whose head was on her chest, looked up with a faintly offended expression. She kissed his nose. "I was just remembering imagining this, my lord."

Orsino smiled. "How odd. So was I." He put his head down again, wondering what he had done to please God so much that the Almighty had blessed him with a strong, brave, clever, beautiful, obedient, faithful woman for his wife. Also very pleasant in bed. She had quite worn him out. She was really delightfully uninhibited. The merest suggestion - that her mouth would feel good here, or her hands there - was met with immediate acquiescence. And, to his utter astonishment and joy, she melted beautifully into his arms when he bent her over a chair and kissed her. Or over a bed, for that matter. Or, as a matter of fact, anytime he kissed her at all. He grinned against her breasts and fell asleep contentedly. Viola, smiling, followed suit.


End file.
